


Party

by SenkoWakimarin



Series: We Like To Party! [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 07:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: All dressed up and trotted out like a trophy boyfriend should feel a lot nicer, Wade thinks.





	Party

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to 'Date'.

Wade didn’t own any cute dresses, slutty or otherwise, and Nate probably would have balked at actually letting him accompany him to this gig in one even if he had. Wade did, however, have a favour owed him by the guy who owned the tailor shop that operated on the ground floor of his building, and that meant he could cash in for a suit, which was tasteful enough that Nate didn’t get all scandalized over it but cut sharp enough that Nate, who always seemed more than willing to ignore his fucked up face, couldn’t seem to stop glancing at him.

The silk and lace panties underneath, which did little for his junk but made his _butt_ a work of fucking _art,_ were a special secret for Nate to find later. Or maybe just for him, it was hard to say; he was was fine with the idea of ending up in bed with Nate (he was crazy, not stupid) but it wasn’t like he was actually banking on it. He could take care of himself if he decided he was in the mood; he’d been taking care of himself for long enough that it wouldn’t even feel like a disappointment.

“Just your regularly scheduled jack off session, En Bee Dee,” he muttered to himself, turning profile to the mirror to make extra double sure that everything was laying proper. His tie was still loose around his shoulders, because tying ties was literally the worst part of putting on fancy clothes, but otherwise he looked pretty okay, if you could excuse the face, which most people couldn’t.

Stepping closer to the mirror, which was unsurprisingly cracked (what in his apartment wasn’t in some way dented, dinged, or broken?) he set about the trick of turning the silk strip into a half Windsor knot. Because if he was going to clean up, he might as well do it right, and half Windsor was _way_ nicer than a full Windsor. Even with his whole B-Horror zombie look, he was pretty pleased with the end result, if only because he caught Nate’s gaze in the reflection, Mutant Messiah eyeing him like he was on a carving board, ready for consumption.

He stepped around Nate without a word -- it took some effort, but he could keep himself from talking if he had a point to make -- and grabbed a mug that looked relatively clean from the cupboard, filling it at the sink and offering it to his date.

“Uh. Thank you?” Nate was too polite to do anything other than take the offered glass, and Wade politely waited for him to take a sip before saying:

“Well, you looked thirsty.”

It was always fun to watch Nate master the reflex to choke when Wade called him on his shit.

The party isn’t super special, and since Wade’s been banned from bringing any weapons because it’s not That Kind of mission, Wade starts to feel fidgety pretty much as soon as they enter the big McMansion foyer. He can feel people looking at them, and it’s not unfriendly or particularly interested; it’s that passing sort of polite horror privileged people express when they see someone who might be sick -- who might be _contagious_.

Wade’s used to being dog-fuck ugly, he knows he has the kind of face that made little kids cry and adults feel squirrely and sick. He’s used to it, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant to deal with in the moment, especially around a bunch of wealthy creeps who could afford to be as rude as they wanted and so never bothered to disguise their unease around him.

Why had Nate decided he wanted him for this mission?

“Okay, babe, so what’s the plan here,” he asked, settling his hand on Nate’s lower back, just shy of resting directly on his ass, leaning against him so he could keep his voice low, giving the impression that he was flirting more than trying to be covert. “You wanted to give New York’s Richest an invitation to puke on their canapes, I’m pretty sure I’ve accomplished that, but otherwise, I’m still in the dark.”

“I’m going to introduce you to some people, and while I go deal with something else, you’re going to keep them right where I leave you until I come back,” Nate says patiently, reaching back to shift Wade’s hand up. “Preferably don’t cause a scene -- makes plausible deniability harder if it’s obvious you were distracting -- but if it’s only way to keep these two completely focused on you, then do what you have to.”

This is not the _best_ plan. Wade doesn’t really, if he’s honest, like this plan. This is not a plan that plays to his strengths really at all. He sags against Nate, burying his face against Nate’s arm so he can peer up at him through the lashes he doesn’t have, the world’s ugliest puppy begging for scraps. Nate barely even glances at him, using the hand on the small of his back to steer him through the people milling about.

Honestly, he can’t understand why Nate would have come to him for help with this if he’s supposed to be the _distraction_. Maybe if the audience was blind and loved vulgar comedy he could keep them laughing, but he had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.

The couple Nate introduces Wade too are, admittedly, less rude than pretty much any of the other guests have managed to be. They both look at Wade, and their eyes go a little wide, but they don’t _stare_ , so points for trying. And their look softens when Nate introduces him as his date.

Nate has always been good at ingratiating himself. People tend to find him charming, even when they don’t agree with him. Wade lets himself stare up at him while he talks, going all dreamy-eyed even as his attention is focused more on Marianna and Marcus, the rich people he’s evidently here to babysit while Nate gets his espionage on. They seem to like Nate in the way someone might like a friend-of-a-friend; politely, with a willingness to accept them despite not necessarily agreeing with them.

Talking to rich people when you’re supposed to be trying to keep their attention and not offend their weird, prickly rich people sensibilities is all kinds of difficult, but Wade, while not as naturally obsequious as Nate can be, has a way about him that often makes people just sort of like him. Usually it doesn’t last long, but he can put on the charm.

The charm, it seems, is enough. Marcus is blushing and Marianna has one hand raised as if to hide the grin that’s baring her picture-perfect teeth when Nate politely excuses himself and slides away. Wade’s got this, even if he’s waiting for the situation to blow up in his face.

Never let it be said that Wade half-asses it when Nathan comes to him for help. He might not be comfortable, and he might want to scream within five minutes alone with these out of touch, casually bigoted assholes, but he keeps an easy smile on his face and trades increasingly pointed barbs with Marianna while Marcus sidelines a conversation that’s too polite to be considered an argument. They’re invested in what Wade has to say, and that’s exactly what Wade wants from them.

He and Marianna talk about a variety of things, and Marcus occasionally interjects with a point of his own, and both of them are focused on Wade entirely. Wade would love to be anywhere else, but he sticks with it for what feels like hours but realistically is probably thirty minutes at most. Then Nate slips back into the conversation, as if he’d only stepped away for a moment, picking up the thread of the current debate and promptly taking Wade’s side and making it sound about a thousand times more legitimate but somehow way more boring.

Five minutes after that, to Wade’s immense relief, Nate gives another polite excuse and, with his hand on the small of Wade’s back, steers them off toward the kitchen. There’s far fewer people in this part of the house, and that lets Wade relax a little. There’s only so much staring a guy should be expected to deal with before he’s allowed to pluck out those offending eyes.

“Kitchen? No door, bold choice. I’m guessing you’re thinking quickie blowjob, but consider this: I see a marble-topped island there, and I bet it’s _real_ cold,” Wade chatters, letting Nate steer him around said island, over to the big double sink. “You fucking me through some well-appointed kitchen acoutremon? Think of the scandal!”

Nate pushes him into the corner where the counter meets the fridge, grinning in that way he has when things are going exactly as he wants them.

“I told you I’m not going to do that,” he says, growls, really, before curling down to kiss the complaint out of Wade’s mouth. “No matter how good you look in that suit.”

And Wade doesn’t really understand, then, what the point of this is, until he registers that Nate’s put him where they’re _almost_ out of sight but not exactly. In a big place where there are plenty of places where they could actually be hidden for a little desperate pawing, Nate’s carefully positioned them where they’re still on display, but anybody who walked in would _think_ they were trying to hide. It’s just part of the act, then.

Kinda cools the rising lust, realizing it’s all part of Nate’s elaborate game here, but not enough that Wade’s going to stop until Nate makes him. If Nate wants to make a show of it, Wade will take what he can get, so when Nate gives him a little extra room, he hops up onto the edge of the counter, perching there so he can hook his heels around the backs of Nate’s knees, keeping him close.

Nate makes this great little noise at that, sliding a hand between Wade’s suit jacket and his shirt, palm warm and firm against his side. Wade wants to latch on like an octopus, drag Nate in and tease until he forgets his stupid plans and this stupid party and breaks his promise not to get up to any naughty stuff while they’re here, but damnit, he spent half an hour schmoozing some rich assholes, and he’d rather not have that all end up having been for nothing just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

He’s got one hand halfway into Nate’s pants when he hears a soft, scandalized gasp and giggle, and smiles against Nate’s mouth at the sound of hastily retreating footsteps. He holds on, the hand that had been resting on the counter coming up to grab Nate’s tie, when Nate starts to pull away.

“Let’s give ‘em something to talk about,” he says, and laughs when Nate gives him a Serious Look.

There’s a certain way Nate has of kissing, where he makes eye contact and absolutely refuses to back down, that really does it for Wade. Shuts down all higher brain function, which Nate _has_ to be aware of, but he does it anyway, holding Wade by the back of the head and slipping tongue into the exchange.

“What do good girls do, Wade?”

The question is just noise, Wade trying to sway back into Nate’s space to get more of that kiss even as Nate’s pulling away, extracting himself neatly and straightening his clothes. That’s not a sight that should evoke such a visceral response from Wade, but it is. Higher brain function still rebooting. Good girls. Something. Sex. “Swallow?”

Nate laughs, soft and sweet, tugging Wade off the counter and straightening his tie, a good enough excuse to lean in so no one else would be able to hear him. “Good girls wait until they’re home to spread their pretty legs, Wade.”

Whatever the face is Wade’s making, he imagines it must be really good because Nate’s grinning in that easy, open way he has when it doesn’t matter to him anymore if anyone sees him. What he _feels_ is a sort of scandalized deprivation, like Nate’s been teasing him and just yanked the prize right out of his hands.

“I thought we established already that I’m a _slut_ , Nathan,” Wade says, letting offense lace his tone. “I’m a slut and I _hate waiting_.”

“No,” Nate says calmly, grabbing a plate off the island with a tiny, ridiculous piece of cake on it. It’s seriously like less than a bite of cake, so why does it have a baby fork on the little plate with it? Are you not supposed to eat it in one bite? What the fuck is _wrong_ with rich people? “I think you’re going to be my good girl tonight. My good, _patient_ girl.”

“You are such an asshole.”

“Even so. C’mon. We need to show our faces for another hour or so.” His smile becomes sly as he looks back over at Wade, offering him his own plate with a crumb of cake on it. “Remember that good girls get better rewards, Wade.”

And goddamnit, Wade _knows_ it’s baiting, but he’s self aware enough to know he’s going to fall for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

He snatches the plate from Nate, pouting, and follows him back to the main group.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there's a third part coming.
> 
> Yes, coming is part of the third part.


End file.
